View To A Kill
by Skarlettini
Summary: Low Light meets his match in a possiable new recruit for the Joe team....
1. Default Chapter

Time: 2:50 am

Place: A large estate on the outskirts of Buenos Aires Argentina

A slight figure with feminine lines melted into the shadows of the  
tropical night, deftly avoiding the lackadaisical movements of the  
armed guards. The fact that the guards had grown arrogant and  
complacent in their patrols was still no excuse for carelessness or  
laziness on her part. She made her way silently through the thick  
foliage to a little known side porch of the sprawling estate house.

She was thankful that the specialized combat suit she wore reduced  
her heat signature to barely nothing as well as neutralised any scent  
of her to the dogs patrolling. It was one of the latest things cooked  
up by the NSA techies. It had self sealing gaskets, covered with a  
special chemical resistant, radar warping polymer and it was also  
lined with light armour. The suit's mask had a built in gas mask ans  
NVG lenses built in. It also obscured her features which was a big  
bonus. It was definitely living up to all the hype the lab boys were  
putting on it.

A careful scan of the area made her lips curl in contempt. There we  
no spotlights, no hidden cameras and looking over the ground, she  
detected no lasers, tripwires or pressure pads that would set off any  
traps or alarms. Leaving a gap this big was a security sin in and of  
itself. Her target was practically inviting her in...but still no  
need to get cocky...it could be a trap to make her careless...

She made her way cautiously over the ground to the French doors of  
the patio. She looked over the alarms on the door and almost  
sneered...no one could be this stupid. The alarm and security system  
on this door was top of the line in 1986. Stupid..... She still was  
extra careful, it might be a dummy trap, hiding the real security  
system if she missed any detail. The french door swung silently open,  
she slipped inside quietly and re-set the alarm..she then hid in the  
shadows of the grand staircase as the layout of the mansion shimmered  
in her mind. Sometimes having a photographic memory was indeed a  
blessing.

It had been a simple matter really, she'd attended a cocktail party  
hosted by her target two nights ago and had allowed him to 'show' her  
his bedroom. She made careful notice of the halls and any escape  
routes as she giggled and clung 'drunkenly'. Luckily the knock out  
drops she'd laced his drink with worked shortly after they reached  
his bedroom and before he got her bra off. She messed up the bed,  
undressed him and left the stray hair and incriminating lipstick  
smudge here and there before investigating the room, formulating  
entry and escape routes. She left half an hour later, taking care to  
look disheveled and 'used'. She hid a smile as the guards smirked  
after her...taking her for a rich, loose, drunken, rather dim Swede  
heiress whom their employer just nailed.

After a couple of near misses, she stepped into her host-now-target's  
bedroom and smirked, looking at the middle aged blond on the bed.  
Hans Kohler...grand daddy was SS who skipped out with lots of Nazi  
gold and settled here. Daddy turned that gold into lucrative drug  
trade and Hansie added white slavery to the mix, they were all still  
Nazis too. Grandpa and daddy were already dead.....to put it  
simply...Hansie needed killing. It would be less an act of homicide  
and more an act of pesticide.

She worked quickly, binding heavy sleeping Hans to the bed...gagging  
him, then finally backhanding him awake. When he finally woke to  
discover his predicament....she smiled as his eyes widened with fury  
and fear as he made noises around his gag.....she rubbed peach oil  
under his nose and whispered in German "Mommy, I smell peaches." She  
pried his eyes open and puts in drops of LSD, waited for it to work  
before slowly strangling him to death with a piano wire garrote.  
Sometimes nothing beat an artistic death.

She waited till she heard the crack of the vertebrate, signaling  
Han's death before releasing her grip. She left the garrote though.  
She slipped out the open bedroom window crouching into the sheltering  
hedges beneath, freezing into place as a couple of the guards stopped  
in front of her hiding place to pass a joint back and forth and to  
discuss the whores of a local establishment most luridly.

Within twenty minutes, the guards dispersed...and after ten minutes  
of making sure she'd not be spotted, she  
made her way off the estate and to a private landing field where a  
private jet was waiting. She signed, was countersigned and she  
stepped aboard the jet. She recognised the agent on board as one of  
her colleagues...Agent Harris Wilkinson. She pulled off the hood of  
her suit, causing a silken rain of silver hair to spill around her  
sharply chiseled, pretty face. She peeled off the suit's gloves and  
ran a slender, pearl-pale hand  
through it to keep it away from her face.

"Another one bites the dust, eh DeWinter?" The medium sized African  
American gentleman asked. He bore a more than passing resemblance to  
Will Smith and took the whole MIB thing to a whole new level.

She looked up at him with her glacier-grey eyes. "That he did. Snap,  
crackle, pop." She agreed in a low, soft, modulated voice flavoured  
with a mild Icelandic accent. Wilkinson smirked and shook his head,  
amusement lighting his sable eyes "You're the bridge agent then?" She  
asked

He nodded a bit, then smiled. "Yer a sick bitch Maxwell, you know  
that right?" He asked as she continued to smooth her hair. She looked  
at him and gave a bright, beauty queen smile and nodded silently,  
causing Agent Wilkinson to mutter. "Village Of the Damned reject."

Stiletto smirked "MIB wanna be. it was at this time Maxwell De  
Winter's cell rang. She picked it up and sighed. "What so fucking  
important?" She coloured a bit. "Oh, hello father." She nodded. "Yes,  
I'll meet you in New York...you booked rooms at the Waldorf?....okay,  
I'll see you then." She snapped the cell phone shut. No rest for the  
wicked it seemed.


	2. Night Moves

Settled into the mud and brush, Cooper MacBride watches as the shadows twist in the jungle...his eyes easily adjusted to the night...scope slowly tracking. The guards couldn't tell she was approaching. Good. NSA superspys better be able to get past this pack of rent-a-cops.

"Okay..." His voice was barely a whisper, not carrying past his rifle's stock. "First layer penetrated...nice moves.." She couldn't hear him, but the commentary helped him keep some focus. Carefully scanning the estate as she slipped into the porch, he sees one of the guards turn, and his senses sharpen...sighting in, locking up...ready....pausing...the guard shakes his head...turns away...walks back away from the porch. Relaxing very slightly, he waits.

He'd been here for over a week while she performed her insertion. He waited paitently, getting schedules. He had to admit, she looked like a million bucks when she came in that dress for the party. Shame it was wasted on the slimeball. He knew she almost certainly wasn't doing anything with the mark, but still. He'd not mind a chance to sample the goods...his minds eye could just about...

Pain welled as he bit the inside of his cheek, and coppery blood washed over his tongue. Back on task.

A flicked glance to the old military watch on his wrist...5 past zero. She should be inside and on the target...a little too long. Going for something cute. Shit. One way or another, not good.

Guards congregating at the bedroom window.

"Fuck."

Sighting in, he aims...ready to fire if needed. They're on the exit route. Talking...smoking...looks relaxed...stay dumb, assholes...finally, they left without an alarm....seeing their girl slip out and through, another shadow amongst shadows...seeing her evacuate the area and out the planned route. "Must be nice to work for 20 minutes and take the month off..."

After she was on the route, he kept scoped...alarms went off a few minutes later. Someone noticed the boss was dead. Fanning out, two headed on the extraction route. Too bad. Closing in, he sights to the heart on the leader of the searchers - bang. A brush of steel over a brush as the silenced rifle fired, and target down. "Item down."

The second whipped around, looking, but not calling to a radio yet. Good. Another shot - no chest angle....head shot. Eyeball shot - Bang. Crumbling, good shot.

"Item down. Threat clear."

2 shots left in the clip, and out in the pre-dawn haze. No more shots expended and a clear op as he slid back into the bush and to his own extraction aboard a Night Hawk bound for extraction and debrief once he landed at a friendly staging area in Chile to his CO.

"Good clean op, Seargeant. Very clean shots - and the NSA sends their thanks for assisting."

"Not a problem sir." The tall, leanly muscled, fair-skinned, blond sniper replied in a quiet, slightly raspy bass, no accent colouring his speech. Mirrored sunglasses shielded his eyes from view and from the too bright lights of the room..

"Any other conclusions?" The Colonel asked as he checked over paperwork.

"If they'd been willing, I think we could have eliminated him from a distance, but that's it."

The Colonel smirked as he signed off the paperwork. "You always say that, MacBride...getting jealous of our silver haired friend?"

Frowning briefly, he covered. "Sure I don't know what you mean, sir. Just pointing out it's a bit less complicated."

A soft chuckle followed with a packet of orders. "Well, maybe you can convince them on the next one. Shower up and then get ready for another plane trip back to the states."


	3. New York new York

Time: 6:30 pm

Place New York City...Waldorf Astoria, room 539

After stopping off at NSA headquarters for debriefing, Maxwell (or  
Max as she was referred to by family and friends), codename Stiletto, then hustled herself onto another private jet headed to New York.

She leaned back in the plush seat of the private jet, eyes closed. She had had really no time to sleep and was doing a meditation execise to ward off fatigue. She had been rather looking foreward to joining her sometimes partner in mayhem and best friend for a long spa weekend in some little resort town in Northern California, but business came up and her plans were all shot to hell.

The jet landed without incident at a private airstrip in New Jersey where the NSA had a car waiting to drive her to the Waldorf. She watched the urban landscape slip by, her face a mask of cool preoccupation as her eyes took in every nuance of her surroundings. The car pulled smoothly into the drive of the hotel and she gave a charming smile to the doorman who openned the door of the car and helped her out. She had a bellman get her bags from the trunk and then strode into the elegant hotel-lobby with grace and confidence.

After getting settled into her room at the Astoria and taking a brief nap (Two hours), she went on a quick shopping trip to a certain exclusive boutique on Fifth Avenue for something suitable to wear to dinner. Her father had made reservations for dinner at the Tavern On The Green located in Central Park.

She spent a liesurely few hours shopping. She smirked a few times as she caught a familar face now and again during her shopping trip. "Well, well." She murmured to herself. "At least my back's covered..." Shopping concluded after she picked up a pair of shoes and some jewelry. She headed back to the hotel after noting the time. Time to get this show on the road.

She stepped into her room and stowed away her purchases. After a quick shower, Max dried off and dressed. She paused to briefly admire the  
choice she made for dinner. The sleeveless, clingy, burgundy, silk,  
cocktail dress displayed her trim figure without revealing too  
much flesh. The skirt ended two inches below the knee and was roomy  
enough (thanks to a tasteful slit in the back of the skirt that  
travelled to midthigh) to allow her to do a side kick without  
damaging the dress. She also found that she could conceal  
weaponry within the dress (Max had the dubious honour of being one of  
the few agents who knew how to conceal a pistol while wearing a  
bikini) always an important consideration in her line of work.

Sheer, black, silk stockings, a pair of three-inch, spike-heeled, black evening sandals and a tasteful silver, marcasite and onyx choker, bracelet and earrings rounded out her ensemble. After applying light make up and doing her argent hair up in an elegant, French twist, she grabbed up a tailored, black, silk tuxedo jacket with a stylised silver, marcasite and garnet 'stiletto' pinned to one of the lapels, put it on, grabbed her clutch purse and stepped out the door, heading to the lobby to await her father......


	4. Shopping

Sleeping on a plane isn't that fun, but it's not that bad, so MacBride did just that because he knew that once they reached the US, he'd be on a copter to NYC as fast as possible. The briefing for New York was delightfully inadequate - simply instructions to check in, go buy a decent suit, and be ready for a dinner meeting with the DeWinter clan. Joy. No matter how sharp Maxwell was, or how much a looker, there was something just slightly off-kilter about being seconded to a civillian agency: The Army ran the way it did for a reason, and taking orders from civillians didn't always fit with that very well.

Oh, well.

Checking in as "Mr. Light" was fairly easy, and the room on the 4th floor was comfortable enough. Checking his watch, he had about 4 hours to get his suit, so it was down and out afterwards for shopping...and pausing after getting off the elevator as he saw a slender, silver haired woman with a smooth, mother-of-pearl complexion, a delicately featured, sharply pretty face and large, slightly slanted, almond-shaped eyes the same silvery-grey as January ice slipping out the front entrance. Smirking a bit, he decided to see just where Maxwell was off to, shadowing her around as she went on her shopping trip, certainly interested in just how that dress would look on her at dinner.

Keeping just far enough away to be 'lost' in the press of people, he finally stopped at a decent tailor's and got a simple dark charcoal suit, white shirt, and a simple dark tie before catching her again as she got some jewlery. Sending the suit back to his room to wait for a shower and touch-up shave, he managed to catch the name she'd registered under (Ms. Emily Frost) at the hotel when she had her clothes sent out, and it was back to the hotel to find out just where her room was before getting cleaned up and ready.

She did look stunning in the lobby as he came off the elevator, and he walked up behind her just quietly enough that she'd know he was there, but not so much that he'd be threatening as he murmured over her shoulder.

"Very nice...but is the dress supposed to apologize for taking too long on the mark?"


	5. Taking A Ride

She turned slowly and arched a slender, sculpted, silver brow at the tall, blond sniper, meeting his intense, electric, diamond-blue gaze. An edge of a smile curved the corners of her burgundy lips. "Mr. Light how nice to see you again...I thought I kept seeing you all day."

He nodded to her, coolly. "Why, thank you, Ms. Frost. It's quite a town for that...have you enjoyed your trip so far?"

Maxwell gave a careless shrug, looking around casually, feeling the 'tzing' along her nerves that always underscored their dealings. "Is it then? I always thought one could get lost here." She replied, continuing to look up at him, her smile slightly amused before answering his question. "New York is always good for a laugh."

MacBride got a slight shiver...an icy cool feeling ran through him like snowmelt. It happened, whenever he spoke to her. "Mmmhmm. You never know what you'll see..." Looking back to her, his eyes flare for a moment... "Looking forward to dinner?"

The silver-haired assasin smiled a bit more. "It is just a briefing. Nothing to be all that upset about." She pointed out as she spotted the driver for the limo signaling her and her companion. "It is time then." She stepped ahead, leading the way to the car...

He nodded to her, giving a fairly nonchalant acceptance and following her over to the limo. Opening the door for her, he gave a nod to the interior. "After you."

She slid into the midnight-black, velvety interior. A stark white envelope rested on a table along with a small, crimson, velvet box. A bottle of wine chilled in a silver ice-bucket joined by a pair of crystal goblets...She took her seat, leaning back and crossing her legs with casual elegance. She picked up the envelope, tore it open and began reading the contents

Raising an eyebrow as he slipped in, he looked at the envelope, box, and the wine. "Good news...?"

Silvery brows shot up as Max passed the letter over to him for inspection, she then lifted the lid of the box. "Tends to depend on how you view the situation."

Cooper's normally deadpan face went a bit pale in surprise.... "Yeah. That's an understatement..."

She looked at the pair of rings resting on a bed of charcoal-grey satin. Each ring bore a two carat, Marquis-cut, black diamond set in gleaming platinum. There was a silken rasp from her crossed legs as she adjusts her seating position. "Disguise effective immediately." She sighed as an unreadable expression flickered over her normally serene features.

He nodded, taking his band. "Well...with this ring..." He shook his head. "So much for me being a good Catholic boy." He quipped as he slipped the ring on, looking over to her...

She slipped the matching ring on the appropriate finger and arched a brow at him. Her expression torn between amusement and exasperation. "You are Catholic?" She asked, her soft, melodic voice laced with mild surprise, before continuing on with their orders. "The cover is that we're meeting father for dinner to announce our recent engagement."

MacBride grimaced a bit. "Theoretically. I was Baptized that way, at least." He nodded. "Always good to check in with dad." The statement was said a bit too quickly, he did not want to say too much on the conditions of their latest assignment. It was safer that way.

Max nodded and smirked. "Considering he's the deputy director of the NSA, very good." She poured herself a glass of wine leaning forth a bit....

"Mmmm..." He took a glass as well, raising it. "Well, here's to our engagement, dear."

Her smirk deepened as she lifted her glass in turn. "Indeed? Will wonders ever cease?" She asked looking him over, approving of his suit and how he filled it out... Finishing the toast, his eyes ran her down as well...yes, this should be quite interesting.

Max shivered a bit as she sipped her wine. She was acutely conscious of his eyes on her body, flushing a bit as her leg lightly brushed his. She took a slow, deep breath, silently cursing herself for her attack of nerves. Frankly, it disturbed her, this never happened with anyone else, till he came along.

He can't help but think about all those little fantasies...his finger found her's after her leg slipped against his...biting his lip lightly... this could be very, very good or very, very bad.....

Stiletto (aka Maxwell) leaned a bit into her new 'fiance', slipping into the role of 'fiancee'. She cursed herself mentally as her pulse jumped when contact was made. She took another sip of wine, hoping to distract herself from her sudden attack of nerves. She thought ahead to what her father might have in mind for the assignment......

As the limo ride went on, Low Light didn't even notice it as he adjusted in his seat so that Maxwell could set a bit more comfortably against him. Feeling her adjust in, he sighed a bit. Maybe it was the wine making him feel this lightheaded. Setting the wine glass back on the limo's sidebar, he simply attempted to relax and enjoy the ride, and wait for their briefing with Maxwell's father.


	6. Arrival

Stiletto looked over at Low Light and smiled slightly. "What should I call you in our new assignment?" She asked curiously.

"I...hm." Thoughtful, he looked back to her, a slight blush rising at her smile. "I suppose that Gabriel might be best...it's what I used to ask people to call me instead of Cooper."

She noted the blush and hid a smile. Shejust leaned in a bit further. "Very well Gabriel." She nodded slowly. "Max will do for me." She offered, licking her lips nervously.

That lick of her lips doesn't go un-noticed...feeling her nestling in against him a bit more. Closing his eyes, he takes a slow, deep breath. "Ok, Max..." Putting his hand around her shoulder comfortably, he looks out the window to avoid too much more temptation. "So...where did we meet?"

She nodded and smiled a bit nervously, leaning away from him again. "You and I met on a cruise up around Alaska last Fall." She paused. "It was at a costume ball. I was dressed as a vampiress." She looked back over at him. "You can select your own costume if you want."

As she leaned away, he adjusted, thinking... "I don't know - I'm really not much for costumes, usually." His last one, when required to go to a Joe Halloween party, had been the classic "I AM A BOMB TECH" T-shirt, with "IF YOU SEE ME RUNNING, TRY TO KEEP UP!" on the back. "I probably just wore something simple.

She smirked again. "Very well a 1930s gangster with Tommy Gun." Her eyes glittered with amusement...before settling down again. "I asked you to dance and made a risque comment about the gun." She nodded, thinking that a good start.

Smirking back, he raised an eyebrow to the sparkle in her eyes. "Dancing, some drinks...a bit more flirting...dinner afterwards?"

She nodded cautiously. "Indeed, oh and you are a moderately wealthy businessman in the Cheasapeake area, your main focus is import-export." She thought for a moment. "I imagine we were intimate before the cruise was over." She made the comment totally offhand. When not having to deal with business, Stiletto was quite blunt at times.

A bit of a hard swallow followed that bluntness...she was certainly honest when it was left to her discretion. "I suspect you're right...I wonder who madethe first move." Then, he shook his head. "Either way...intimate, and then we made arrangements to see each other again after the cruise?"

She arched a brow at the curiosity. "It was probably a mutual decision." She then nodded. "You were quite pleased to discover that I lived in Baltimore."

Smirking back to the arched brow, his hand lightly traces her arm. "Oh, yes..." He paused. "So. We've been seeing each other for...around eight months and I asked you to marry me a few nights ago?"

She restrained a shiver at the hand traced down her arm, nodding slightly. "Indeed it was quite the whirlwind courtship." She agreed and nodded. "The circumstances of the proposal were while we were out holiday shopping I suspect."

"I probably took you out to one of the bridges over the bay and proposed there...something very simple but elegant?" Thoughtful, his eyes turned inward, imagining the scenario.

She nodded. "Very good, it was rather cold and windy." She smiled a bit. "I of course accepted and we phoned father who insisted on meeting you. So we came to New York." She paused for a moment. "Father will also be on hand to witness our nuptials after dinner, as we had made arrangements to see a justice of the peace."

He nodded. "I assume we came in different suites initially to avoid a bad appearance, but we'll probably be sharing one of our rooms after dinner?"

She paused in thought then replied. "It is a game we decided upon. In fact we have the honeymoon suite booked at the Ritz. The Waldorf has been told that we were called away on sudden business."

"Ahhh, good." He looked over to her again, smirking. "So...do you steal the covers?"

She arched a brow at that "I do no such thing, though I suppose you do." She then tilted her head looking at him. "You are taking this assignment surprisingly well. Most men, even agents, would feel somewhat awkward."

He looked back away. "Well...a mission where I get to pretend to be engaged and then married to a very beautiful woman isn't half bad." He paused. "Maybe I'm just used to the crazy jobs."

She coloured a bit and shrugged. "Even still, I thank you for your acceptance of the situation.....and it will not be merely an agent made up to be a judge. It will be a real justice of the peace. So the marriage will be binding...at least in the legal sense.....it helps to authenticate things." She spoke rapidly and quietly with a slight frown.

"Not leaving anything to chance..." He got a bit nervous himself, but tried not to show it... "Well, then." He turned in his seat, angling, though he can't entirely kneel. "Would you marry me, Max?

She looked at him and gave a low, rich, quietchuckle. "Your attempt at levity is most appreciated, but well you have already asked me according to the background we've cooked up." She silver-grey eyes show a flicker of surprise at the question...

He grinned. "Well, true...but it's good to check." A sigh of relief doesn't pass his lips, but it is clear in his eyes. Then, on a sudden impulse, he leaned in, kissing her lightly.

She nodded and smiled slightly. "I thank you for keeping your sense of humour about the matter...it would be...taxing to most others." She is surprised at the kiss and stiffened a bit, but did not pull away...as he pulled away, her lips still burned....she gave him a penetrating look and asked. "Getting into character?"

He paused... "Yes, I suppose so..." He quirked his lips slightly, still tasting her. "And it fit the moment. I can't promise it won't be taxing - I may still be in shock."

She shrugged, still nervous, scolding herself silently to remain professional.She smiled back in self-containedamusement....then coloured a bit at his statement. "I...of course, it is putting...a strain on my re...temper as it is. I cannot imagine how it must affect you."

He blinked as she blushed, and then looked away again. "Ah...yeah..." Lost for words, he's surprised. He'd never seen her shaken like that. This was the same woman who he'd seen calmly shoot a man in cold blood on confirmation that said man was a traitor. "We'll just have to see..."

She took a sip of wine from her glass, attempting to cover her awkwardness at the situation. "Indeed." She agreed.

Frowning, he seemed to feel as if he slipped, somewhere in there. "How soon to dinner? Don't want to be late.

She looked out the window and saw the limo pull into the drive of the Tavern. "It is now and we are a few minutes early." She gave him another slight smile. "Do you know your role?"

"I think I do." He nodded.

She nodded backand smiled as the door man openned the limo's door and she began sliding out side, leaving him to follow...

Standing, he comes with her, offering her his arm as he stepped out.

She slipped her arm in his and leaned forth, kissing his cheek and whispering. "Remember, we are recently engaged and disgustingly happy about it."

Taking in her scent, he kisses her forehead in turn. "Oh, I don't have any problem doing that." He murmured back.

She pulled back looking amused, feeling the kiss at the forehead, arching a brow at the statement. "I see." She replied cryptically."

A heated glance is the only answer he gives before being led into the restaurant, and towards a wiry man with greying, strawberry blond hair, silver-grey eyes and a weathered face. The man was dressed in a simple black Armani suit with a deep, blue shirt and a subtle tie. He looked dressed to fit with any of the high finance leaders of Wall street, but his appearance was more towards a college professor. Low Light's sharp eyes detected the tell-talse signs of a pistol kept in a shoulder holster beneath the man's suit-jacket and the older man was casually watchful of everyone. Low Light stepped forth, smiling and looking very much the happy engaged and soon to be newlywed.

Her scent was clean and somewhat herbal...but not cloyingly so. She did not miss the heat in his gaze, but father drew her attention at the moment as she gave a bright smile...ahhh the joyously engaged..."Father..." Her normally cool voice taking on a warmth...


End file.
